American Pie - the British connection
FOR FOUR decades, music fans and social historians have been arguing over the messages hidden in the lyrics to Don McLean’s American Pie, which were sold at auction in New York this week for more than a million dollars.
Today, after extensive research and textual analysis, this column can reveal the true meaning of this famous anthem — and its British origins . . . A long, long time ago. It was a long, long time ago. I can still remember how the music used to make me smile. Thought to be a reference to the novelty song Splish, Splash (I Was Taking A Bath), by Bobby Darin, which reached Number Three in the American singles chart in April 1958.
However, some eminent musicologists believe that Don McLean could have been referring to Benny Hill’s smash hit, Ernie, The Fastest Milkman In The West.
Although Ernie was released in 1971, the same year as American Pie, it had been performed on television a year earlier and could have inspired McLean. But February made me shiver. It was cold. With every paper I’d deliver. He was a paper boy. Bad news on the doorstep, I couldn’t take one more step. A dog had done a whoopsie outside the front door of Number 47. Unfortunately, Don stepped in it and couldn’t proceed with his paper round until he had used the racing section of the New York Times to clean it off. So bye-bye Miss American Pie. For more than 40 years, it was thought this referred to the winner of a beauty pageant sponsored by the Betty Crocker Corporation, which manufactures the ingredients for cakes, pancakes and pastries.
Subsequent research has revealed that McLean was actually writing about a 23- stone woman he saw eating four Steak Bakes outside a chip shop in Blackpool, where he had been performing in a local folk club while touring Britain in July 1969. The woman was on a hen night and dressed up as the Statue of Liberty, hence Miss ‘American’ Pie. Drove my Chevy to the levy . . . Note that ‘levy’ is spelled with a ‘y’, not double-‘e’. The popular misconception is that McLean was writing about a river bank, or perhaps a local bar called the ‘Levee’.
In fact, he had been driving his imported Chevrolet Impala down the A1 into London and heard on the radio that there may be plans in the future to introduce a congestion charge, or ‘levy’. Hence: drove my Chevy to the levy. And good old boys were drinking whisky in Rye, singing this’ll be the day that you die. Note: ‘in’ Rye, not ‘and’ Rye, as many wrongly believe. During that same 1969 tour of England, McLean also performed at a folk music concert in a room above a pub in Rye, East Sussex.
The ‘good old boys’ in the song were, in fact, a gang of skinheads, who were downing pints of Harveys Armada Ale and large scotch chasers in the beer garden. They were actually singing: ‘You’re gonna get your ****ing head kicked in!’ McLean chose to clean up the lyrics for the record. When the jester sang for the King and Queen, in a coat he borrowed from James Dean. Said to describe Bob Dylan in the jacket he wore on the cover of his seminal Freewheelin’ album, which was allegedly similar to a wind- cheater once worn by the film star James Dean.
The truth is a little more mundane. The ‘Jester’ was not Dylan but Ken Dodd, who entertained the Queen and Prince Philip (the ‘King’) at the 1969 Royal Variety Performance.
Before he was due on stage, Dodd spilt a cup of tea down his evening jacket and had to borrow one from the assistant manager of the London Palladium, whose name was Jimmy Dean. Hence: the coat he borrowed from James Dean. Helter Skelter in summer swelter. The received wisdom is that this was a reference to the massmurderer Charles Manson, who was influenced by The Beatles’ White Album, which contains a track called Helter Skelter. However, this line, too, was written by McLean during his visit to Blackpool, where he amused himself during the day at the Pleasure Beach, sliding down the helter skelter.
The weather was in the mideighties and newspaper photographers were frying eggs on the pavement, hence: summer swelter. Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack Flash sat on a candlestick. Not, as many stubbornly maintain, an allusion to Mick Jagger at the Rolling Stones’ ill- fated concert at Altamont Speedway, California, where a man was stabbed to death in front of the stage by the Hell’s Angels hired to provide security.
This is yet another reference to Ken Dodd, whose frenetic performance at the Palladium was a major influence on McLean’s career.
The line originally read ‘tickling-stick’ but was later changed to ‘ candlestick’ because McLean thought ‘ tickling- stick’ might confuse American audiences. And the three men I admire most, The Father, Son and Holy Ghost, They caught the last train for the coast, The day the music died. McLean was sitting on a bench at Preston railway station, listening to Radio Luxembourg on his transistor radio. He was waiting to catch the last train to Blackpool (‘the coast’), when he spotted three Catholic priests standing further down the platform.
One was much older, another a novice and the third had an extremely pale complexion. McLean said subsequently that they looked like ‘the father, son and holy ghost’.
Just as the train was about to leave, the batteries in McLean’s radio ran out. Hence: the day the music died. Next week: Who put the bomp in the bomp bah bomp bah bomp? Who put the ram in the ramalama-ding-dong? Who was that man? A special investigation reveals his true identity.